Linger
by Wintry Leen
Summary: Sasuke's love is more than just appearances. SasuSaku. For SS month.[Takes place the night before he resumed his journey.] Oneshot. #33


**a/n:** For Wusel-chan. This is actually what happened the night before. *winks* Please cheer up!

This is also an entry for SS month, day 6 prompt: skin deep. It's an attempt to make some people understand that when it comes to SasuSaku, outward appearances don't mean much. It's the essence that matters and you have to be willing to understand this pairing if you wish to see that.

* * *

 _Linger_

Pushing the door open, he combs back through his memories and feels relief washing over him as he takes in the sight that greets him.

The curtains, despite being of a different print, are still of the same shade of blue that they decided on years ago. He wanted a darker color, but Sakura wanted something light, so in the end, they agreed to have stone blue drapery.

The glass-fronted bookcase, despite the thin film of dust clouding its transparency, is still the same bookcase that he got her twelve years ago when he realized that she would never stop bringing home medical books and scrolls.

The bedside table is still sitting in the right corner beside their bed. Two picture frames are resting on it, and the lamp, despite the age spots and the color fading through time, is still that same lamp that kept him and his wife company during their first night together.

The frayed rug, partially hidden beneath the bed, is still that same rug which caused him to lose his footing years ago when Sakura pulled him up from the bed, played a slow music and began to sway him with her despite his reluctance until he slipped and landed back on the bed, bringing Sakura to laughter; he had to shut her up with a kiss.

And the bed...

"Sasuke-kun?"

He looks at his wife momentarily before walking towards his side of the bed, tentatively touching the covers and noting the absence of creases, as if untouched. His pillow, he observes, is in a more shapely form compared to the pillow beside it, flattened, with a few wisps of hair littering the top side.

"Oh, let me change the sheets."

Sakura shuffles and begins tugging at the linen tucked beneath the bed.

"No. You don't need to, Sakura."

"But – "

"Is your arm still hurting?"

Sakura blinks for a moment before she shifts her arm to glance at the spot where the wounds used to lie just hours earlier.

"Not anymore. It's all thanks to you, darling."

She smiles with the same radiance she had when she told him she was carrying their child. Suddenly gripped by a familiar feeling, he walks over to her and gently grabs her arm, seeing for himself the last vestiges of scars and dried-up splatters of blood around them.

He frowns, and before he can be aware of what he is doing, he has already lifted her arm to his lips, lightly kissing the area where she had her wounds.

"Sasuke...kun?"

He then begins trailing kisses up her arm until he reaches the juncture between her neck and shoulder. He hears her take a sharp breath.

"Don't call me Sasuke, Sakura," he says in a low and husky voice.

He takes in her faint vanilla whiff, expecting to smell the same scent from their bed sheet, from her pillow.

"Then what...What - "

"Darling," he whispers before placing a soft kiss under her lobe and wrapping his arm around her waist.

He feels Sakura tug at his hair, coaxing him to look up. He obliges and releases her, and her hand reaches forward to stroke his cheek lovingly.

"I miss you...I miss you, darling."

He takes her hand then and presses a kiss into her palm before holding her again, resting his chin atop her head.

Everything about her is still the same: her eyes brimming with love whenever she looks at him; her melodic, confused voice whenever he takes her by surprise; her skin, always warm and familiar to his fingers; and her body, the perfect fit against his.

"Thank you for everything, Sakura."

He feels her head bob before she snuggles against him more firmly.

"You're so warm. The bed...it has always been cold ever since you left."

He hears the hint of sadness in her tone, and he wishes he would not have to say another goodbye.

"I'm leaving again tomorrow."

"I know."

He tightens his hold on her when he hears her sigh.

"I'll make you lunch. I'll add a lot of tomatoes."

He has not heard her laugh this close for years, but he always hears it in his dreams. It is still the same – the kind of music that goes with the Sakura petals dancing in the wind.

For the first time in twelve years, they lie in bed together that night, and Sasuke wonders when the next time will be. He has his arm around Sakura as she makes a pillow of his chest. They talk about his journey and the notable events that have transpired in the village after Sarada was born, after he left, and he soon hears her even breathing.

"Sakura..."

He hears silence, then a mumble.

"...kun. I love you...darling."

He does not force back a smile as he changes his position to see Sakura's face up-close. He touches his lips to hers and lingers, committing her warmth to memory.

"Same here."

As he walks away the next day, he will never forget the face that his wife has made - perhaps thinking that he is making her wait – and the feeling of playful satisfaction that fills him when he hears their daughter asking her:

"Mama, what's that on your neck?"

 _ **...**_

 _ **Fin.**_


End file.
